Working title: thoughts on a pandemic.
On one hand, I believe in flattening the curve. On the other hand, becoming a brick-and-mortar business owner has really changed my perspective on… everything. My mind is doing this thing it sometimes does–a super duper fun defense mechanism. When there’s something big that I have no control over, then my brain finds the one thing that I (also don’t have any control over but at least I can pretend) can control and so right now, that’s my business. So I’m obsessing about my business and how slow we’ve been this winter because of all of the snow and all of the flu season. And right when spring hits and we’re all supposed to be out and about and supporting our economy… aaaaaand what’s that? Stay inside? More? Oh god. Okay.
We’re going to stay open unless/ until it feels harmful (or we are otherwise instructed) to do so. But I’ve also been hitting our Instagram and Facebook stories hard to remind people that they can order things over the phone. We’re getting creative and we’re doing the best we can with what we have and that’s all we can do at the end of the day.
All the amazing book-tours are getting cancelled. I love seeing authors online linking to all the bookstores that are going to be affected so that people can still buy their books from them so that they won’t lose out on all the income of having to cancel a big name event. I, myself, recently purchased tickets to go see Liz Gilbert in Wichita in a few weeks. I’m expecting the refund/ cancellation email any minute now.
All my favorite bookstores that I follow on Instagram are closing “indefinitely” and that feels ominous and doom-y.
But it’s all for the best. It really, really, really is. I know that. I believe that. And also, I just really hope that a temporary situation doesn’t leave permanent gaps in our beautiful small towns that we work so hard to keep vibrant and full of life.
And that is all the complaining and worrying I’m going to allow for myself for today because this is the kind of thing that I have to put limits on for myself–lest I wallow.
Now is the time for (an incomplete list):
Now is the time to lean into small gatherings. Let’s wash our hands thoroughly before refilling someone’s glass of wine. Let’s fill up on pasta primavera since it’s spring time and the best vegetables are starting to pop up.
Now is the time to go to the dog park and grab a bench all to yourself while you listen to your murder podcasts.
Now is the time for re-learning interdependence and community care. About a year ago, a friend of mine mentioned that the faith tradition in which she was raised, taught her to “think corporately” and that’s a phrase that’s never left my mind. But it’s been extra deep in my heart lately. They tell us to self-isolate and I hear, “lean on one another, now.”
Now is the time for lesbian poetry legends:
There come times — perhaps this is one of them —
when we have to take ourselves more seriously or die
when we have to pull back from the incantations,
rhythms we’ve moved to thoughtlessly,
and disenthrall ourselves, bestow
ourselves to silence, or a severer listening, cleansed
of oratory, formulas, choruses, laments, static
crowding the wires.
–Adrienne Rich, from Transcendental Etude
Now is the time for buying that cookbook you’ve been wanting and cooking your whole way through it. For me, it’s Alison Roman’s book(from an indie bookseller!).
What is now the time for, for you and yours?